


Seer of Fate

by aislingyngaio



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingyngaio/pseuds/aislingyngaio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The army from Camp Jupiter has arrived at Camp Half-Blood, only to be met by someone they would never have associated with their enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seer of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Octavian / Rachel fanarts and Twitter items collected in this [post](http://aislingyngaio.tumblr.com/post/55751329047).

Nearly a hundred and fifty years have passed since the last time Half-Blood Hill came alive with the sound of invasion, but both Peleus and Argus heard the screams for blood from two hundred throats even before said screamers managed to scale the hill. It was not a small group of demigods being escorted by a satyr protector pursued by monsters seeking demigod blood, however much they ironically wished for such an occurrence now.

The Twelfth Roman Legion had arrived. The new Civil War was about to begin.

At the head of the army was not, curiously enough, the Pegasus-mounted girl with the purple cloak of a Roman Praetor, whose lips were pressed together with suppressed fury and weariness as rider and steed glided forward silently among the chanting throng. Of the entire army, only a select few - most notably soldiers from the cohort escorting the eagle standard bearer - looked unhappy at the coming battle instead of mirroring the bloodthirsty excitement of the pale blond boy leading the charge towards the gateway now visible on top of the hill.

As they neared the entrance to the traitorous _graecus_ camp, they were suddenly greeted by the welcome party walking calmly out from the camp's borders. The glitter of the legendary Golden Fleece hardly registered with the Legion as the Senior Centurion of the First Cohort raised his _pilum_. The Legion fell immediately into formation behind him and watched in puzzlement at the scene before them.

The pretty redheaded girl who emerged wore jeans and the hated orange T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of Camp Half-Blood. She also wore an expression of utmost serenity, despite her lack of armour in the face of two hundred well-equipped demigods. She was alone.

The girl curtseyed - _curtseyed_? - and spoke, “Welcome, Romans of Camp Jupiter, and Praetor Reyna. Jason has spoken much of--”

Octavian did not let her finish. “Hah! These Greeks send out a lone, unarmed girl to parlay with us, is that it? Or is this yet another Trojan horse? Are we to be treated with more Greek lies? Kill her!”

Half the army was shocked by the pronouncement, though the First and Second Cohort in particular started raising their _pila_ in an attacking pose. Reyna’s expression darkened as she yelled while dismounting Scipio hastily, “OCTAVIAN! We do NOT attack opponents who are unarmed! There is no honour in--”

“HONOUR?” The blond boy yelled back, now stomping towards the redhead, who was watching with a raised eyebrow, part-exasperated, part-amused, as if she wasn’t afraid of - was _entertained_ by - the entire Roman legion, unarmed and alone, and that offended the Roman augur more than anything. He tore off his helmet to face his compatriots as he answered back to the entire crowd, “And where was the honour when their flying warship fired into OUR CITY? Where was it when they attacked us where we were forbidden any weapons? Did they observe the niceties of parlay when New Rome was torched by the likes of them?”

Then before anyone could reply he whirled around and plunged his _pilum_ into the girl, screaming “Die, _graecus_!”

But much to the shock of all present, the Imperial gold weapon merely passed harmlessly through the girl. Stunned, Octavian looked at her now annoyed - and pain-free - face and stuttered, “How--- why---” Then he gasped in consternation. “ _Mortal_? That’s _impossible_!”

“Are you done?” The girl’s deadly calm voice would never have prepared him for what happened next. With a strength he would not have credited a mortal for having, she backhanded him so hard he landed on his _podex_ right in front of a suddenly slack-jawed Reyna, with his _pilum_ clanging harmlessly to the ground next to them. It could be the shock from the utterly humiliating experience, but while he picked himself up with great indignation, his right palm on his flaming hot cheek, he thought he heard her mumble, “Yeah, thanks a bunch, dad. Finishing school _really_ helps _a lot_. One year there and still no useful skills to practice in real life.”

Then, taking a deep breath and gathering herself, she addressed Reyna directly, and pointedly ignored Octavian. “Praetor Reyna, perhaps our business will be conducted more quickly if we leave the--” Here, she paused to allow herself a sidelong glance over at Octavian with an expression of one faced with a cockroach, “--crazy guy out of this. I’ve had enough of being stabbed by your demigod weapons to last me a lifetime, to be honest.”

Stunned yet secretly gratified at being treated with proper respect for once since the day the spear was thrown in her mother’s temple for this operation, Reyna stepped dignifiedly past a visibly insulted and pissed off Octavian to face this suddenly dangerous _mortal_ adversary with more caution. If there were such powerful mortals in Camp Half-Blood, it’s no wonder that Percy Jackson... “Perhaps you are right. But how is it that a mortal like yourself is representing the Greek demigods? Who are you?”

The girl smiled, and Reyna could have sworn she saw a flash of green in the girl’s suddenly age-old eyes. “My name is Rachel Elizabeth Dare, and I am the current Oracle of Delphi.”

Most Legionnaires' eyes went wide at the information and a wave of disbelieving muttering broke out, with a suddenly paler than usual Octavian spluttering uncomprehendingly, “You... mortal... _Oracle_? Impossible... Delphi... old... dried up... Seer... for real?”

Rachel merely smirked evilly as she deliberately ignored the unintended insults from the Roman augur, and confided in a loud aside to Reyna, “And I hope for your camp’s sake that Apollo never hears of how his Roman descendant tried to kill his Oracle, or this crazy guy will wish he was never born.”

_\- Finis -_


End file.
